


Wrapped Up In You

by Cara252



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Because Felix is too hot, Bittersweet, Byleth supports the gay, Claude is scared by the Blue Lions immunity to winter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mercie makes hot chocolate for everyone, Sylvain gets a few snowballs to the face, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cara252/pseuds/Cara252
Summary: Claude has never had a real winter in his entire life, but he already knows for certain that he hates the cold. Meanwhile the majority of the Blue Lions students don’t even feel the icy temperatures and act like it’s the middle of summer.At least Dimitri is a considerate boyfriend.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 214





	Wrapped Up In You

**Author's Note:**

> Will I post this fic completely unrevised? Yes. Yes, I will.

Claude steps down the stairs of the dormitories and out into the cold morning frost. The temperatures have dropped rapidly over the last night, and it is freezing outside, to the point that the stonewalls shimmer in the dim daylight, and that he almost slips on one of the marble steps.

A string of curses, even one or two not of Fódlan origin that he dearly hopes no one heard him speak, fly from his mouth. He tugs his thick winter coat tighter around himself when he feels his body begin to shiver.

He regrets not buying the nice scarf or the comfortable looking mittens he saw on the market not more than a few days earlier. At the time he joked to the merchant that it wasn’t winter just yet. The temperatures were still far more bearable back then.

He arrives at the bottom of the stairs, and is met with the sight of a dozen tiny snowflakes falling from the sky and obscuring his vision of the monastery. It is not storming per say, but the snow is so dense that he can barely see beyond the frozen pond that is already covered in a layer of snow, concealing the ice beneath.

The rest of the monastery isn’t faring any better either.

The ground is stacked with snow. It’s so much that it almost reaches Claude’s knees and falls over onto the clear patches protected by roofs or arches, which themselves have a number of sharp icicles caught on their edges. Claude will definitely avoid those spots.

Some orphans from the monastery seem to have other ideas though. He watches as they take stones and throw them at the root of the icicles, waiting for them to drop down into the thick snow blanket to pick up.

Claude is curious what the children might do with their tiny ice spears, but as long as they don’t stab each other with them he supposes it doesn’t really matter. The more they collect the less he has to worry about one dropping onto his head.

Although he spots a few more people around, students and staff alike, the grounds are mostly empty. It makes sense; the majority of people aren’t that well accustomed to cold weather and would rather stay inside where it is warm and cosy.

So would Claude, if he were being honest.

But he fears the Golden Dear classroom won’t be nearly as warm with its small fireplace compared to the common areas with their large chimneys. They aren’t optimal for working though, and most likely packed to the brim with people anyway.

In any case, he has an essay to finish that needs to be handed in by the end of the week, and he would rather do it with the background noise of his bustling classmates to distract him from the cold than freeze to death in his lonely room.

He takes a few steps forward until he stands right in front of the pile of snow at the arched doorway. Belatedly, he realises that he has never actually seen or touched snow in his entire life before, only seen paintings of it in books or in the halls of the monastery.

He silently wonders what it might feel like on his skin. Considering that snow is just frozen water, would it melt upon contact due to his body heat? Or would it continue to stay stable thanks to the freezing temperature?

He takes a look around to make sure no one is watching him, then bends down to pick up a handful with his bare hands. A part of him likes to think he is doing this for scientific purposes, but he can’t deny the childlike curiosity that rises in him at the prospect of something new, of something that he hasn’t had the chance to experience until now.

It makes a pleasant sound when he collects some from the top, but his fingers instantly feel raw, like the cold is biting away at his skin. The sensation is comparable to getting his fingers cut off, and the longer he holds it, the worse it gets.

He shakes the snow off his hands and looks down at them to discover they are drenched in water. That answers his question, at least. Beside that though, the rest the snow lands on the clean marble at his feet, complete and unbothered.

However, his fingers are numb. A rough breeze passes by him, causing the numbness to be replaced by an uncomfortable ache. He quickly wipes his hands on his pants to the best of his abilities, and sticks them into his furred coat pockets.

Those won’t be getting better anytime soon.

The stories Dimitri told him about playing in the snow as a child do not feel quite as exciting anymore with throbbing in his fingers as they did a few days ago. How anyone could play in this kind of weather is beyond him. How Dimitri has survived in this kind of climate for the majority of his life he doesn’t understand either.

He has been outside the dorms for a barely a few minutes and he is already a shivering mess. His cheeks feel sore and hot, his hands and especially his fingers ache. The reason why Dimitri would ever be excited for this kind of weather is completely lost on him.

Setting his boyfriend’s strange tendencies aside, he should really hurry to his classroom before he becomes a living icicle.

He takes his first step into the snow and prays that his boots will be able to withstand the cold. The snow crunches beneath his foot and doesn’t even fall together to fill in the hole when he stands knee-deep in it.

He takes another step. Then another. And another. He has scarcely made any progress, and he mentally and physically prepares himself for a torturously long way to his classroom. Besides, it doesn’t help at all that snowflakes continue to get caught in his lashes, consequently also falling into his eyes.

He heaves a sigh. It can’t be helped, and sulking like a child won’t make it any better either. Thus, he trudges forward, fighting his way across the monastery grounds as he shakes like a leaf.

He has only got himself to blame for not preparing properly.

Despite all that he arrives relatively fast at the classrooms. What he didn’t expect was to find himself staring at the entirety of the Blue Lions students running around the courtyard and throwing snowballs at each other like madmen.

He recalls Dimitri telling him about the snowball fights him and his childhood friends used to have all year around whenever they came to visit him at the palace, and how fondly he spoke of them as bonding moments. Claude isn’t sure what kind of bonding hails from throwing literal frozen balls of water at each other’s faces, but he is gonna pass on that one for sure.

It strikes him as a surprise though, when he sees a disgruntled Felix hunting down a Sylvain, whose laughter rings across the entire yard. Felix has more than a handful of snow in his bare hands, and Claude watches as he shoves it down the back of Sylvain’s jacket when he finally catches him. Sylvain doesn’t even flinch, and instead turns around to tackle his friend to the floor.

For a while they lay on the ground, Sylvain’s tuft of bright red hair sticking out against the endless sea of white, until Felix grunts and pushes him off. Sylvain laughs at the blush spreading from Felix’s cheeks to his ears. Claude takes a moment to reconsider his insight of their relationship.

He is broken out of his thoughts when Sylvain stands up and is instantly hit by a snowball square in the face. Felix huffs a laugh at the sight, but receives his own snowball to the back of his head shortly after. The culprit is Ingrid, who already kneels once more to form another ball, the grin on her face stretching from ear to ear.

When Sylvain throws one of his own at her, she effectively ducks beneath it, and it goes on to hit Annette’s back instead. Annette stands at the side of the yard before the closed doors of her classroom, and halts her conversation with Ashe, Dedue and Mercedes to face the offender.

Sylvain raises his hands in mock surrender, and Claude is sure a carefree apology is going to slip from his lips. Annette forms a snowball and throws, and Sylvain doesn’t get the chance to say anything at all. The smile on Annette’s face betrays her façade of anger. Before she runs off to join the fight, she spins around calls to her friends to follow.

Ashe runs after Annette, and Dedue reluctantly follows after a second or two. Mercedes does not join them. She only watches the chaos unfold from the side-lines as their friends all turn their focus to Sylvain, who is absolutely aware of the disaster that is about to befall him.

Claude suddenly notices that Mercedes is the only one of the Blue Lions properly dressed for the weather with a thick, furred coat, a pair of mittens and a large scarf that could easily be mistaken as a blanket. Meanwhile the rest are sporting their usual uniforms with only a jacket thrown on top.

Putting aside the horrifying conclusion that the students of Faerghus have apparently lost all sense and are downright immune to cold, it is astonishing to see them here at the monastery at the current moment. They were assigned a mission a few days ago, but seem to be back earlier than anticipated.

Claude hides his face in his coat collar, but he cannot hide the small surge of happiness in him at the thought of seeing Dimitri again. The thing is; he doesn’t actually see Dimitri anywhere, and he dearly hopes Dimitri isn’t training himself rugged at the training grounds again while his friends amuse themselves.

He passes his classroom and approaches Mercedes instead.

“Oh! Good morning, Claude,” she says enthusiastically when she spots him, “I hope you’re faring well. It is quite cold, isn’t it?” Mercedes smiles at him knowingly, and Claude hates how easily she has him figured out. Although, he supposes it isn’t that difficult picking up on his discomfort with how he is shivering from head to toe.

“Good morning, Muffin.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with familiar ease, and he bows like a gentleman to accentuate it. It comes off as exaggerated as he hoped it would, and Mercedes giggles into the back of her hand. “I’m just slightly surprised you noticed the drop in temperature in the first place, because your classmates definitely didn’t get the notice.”

“Faerghus has negative temperatures almost all year around. It rarely gets warm enough for the snow to melt.” Her eyes wander to her friends who are now having a full-fledged snowball fight in the middle of the courtyard. “They must be so used to it that they barely even notice the cold anymore. I must admit I’m not nearly as good at handling it as they are though.”

“At least you’re not shaking like a leaf like the rest of the monastery that isn’t from Faerghus.” For a second his eyes drifts to a group of students who quickly slip into the Black Eagles classroom. When he looks back to the ongoing fight, he takes note of Felix’s open hair and the obvious red tint to Sylvain’s cheeks as he stares. Claude winces when the ginger takes another snowball to the face for getting distracted.

“I suppose that’s true.” She hums thoughtfully and Claude wonders what might be on her mind. “Winter is hard to get used to and not everyone is made for it either. Perhaps we could somehow make it more bearable for the other students.” Ah, he should have expected as much.

“You truly do have a heart of gold,” he chuckles, desperately trying to ignore the annoying itch in his fingers. The urge to scratch them, even though Dimitri has warned him not to, becomes unbearable. It takes him embarrassingly little time to cave in and slip them out of his pockets. He rubs them together and blows into his closed fist, but it does very little to actually soothe the pain.

“Maybe you should head inside too,” Mercedes says with clear worry in her voice, “I’ve heard it never snows in Derdriu. You shouldn’t push yourself to stay out here with me if you’re cold, I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” he lies with ease, as if it is second nature, “but I do have some work to do, so I should probably get going. But before I leave, I wanted to ask you-“ He stops mid-sentence when the Blue Lions classroom’s doors swing open, and Dimitri appears in the doorway. A smile finds its way onto Claude’s face. “Never mind. Question answered.”

Dimitri is facing away from him and is focused on Professor Byleth, who steps out behind him with a pile of books in his arms. At the sound of Claude’s voice Dimitri turns his head around. For a second or two, Dimitri looks a bit taken aback. It fades quickly and is swiftly replaced by a broad smile.

“Claude!” The next thing he knows Dimitri has closed the short distance between them in 3 long strides, and Claude’s face is cupped in his warm, calloused hands. He did not notice until now that Dimitri wasn’t wearing his ever-present gauntlets. It doesn’t bother him, in fact, he likes the warmth that emits from his bare hands and he leans into the touch with a content sigh.

When Dimitri leans down for a kiss Claude meets him halfway. One of Dimitri’s hands disappears from his face to snake around his waist, resting on the lower of his back and pulling him closer while the other caresses his face. Claude has to admit, he loves the sheer heat that radiates from Dimitri’s body.

The urge to get closer overwhelms his fear of publicly displaying his affection. He wants to be closer, much closer. And Claude silently regrets not being somewhere much more private.

Despite all that he winds his arms around Dimitri’s broad shoulders and neck, enjoying the way Dimitri gasps into his mouth when he plays with the hair at his nape. The kiss is chaste and short, but Claude doesn’t wish for it to be any more than that in the company of others. Dimitri knows and understands that.

“I missed you,” Dimitri says when they part, and Claude hums in agreement. He plays with his boyfriend’s blue scarf, which is so loosely tied around his neck that he doubts it serves any real purpose. Dimitri is like a living heater, warm and comfortable, and Claude is certain he doesn’t need the scarf at all. He bets Dedue made him wear it regardless.

“Missed you too, Mitya.”

Dimitri gives him a quick peck on the cheek and takes a step back to give Claude some space like he always does in public. Usually Claude would appreciate the gesture, but right now he only mourns the loss of warmth. He doesn’t dwell on it.

“Sorry, Professor,” Dimitri says sheepishly when he spots Byleth, who is patiently waiting a few steps away. Claude swears he sees the hint of a smile on his stern features. Byleth only shakes his head.

“There is nothing to apologise for,” he says, and shifts the pile of books into one hand to pull out a note from his pocket with the other. He offers the note to Dimitri. “These are the Blue Lion’s assignments for next week. I was going to assign them in private, but I’ve been keeping you all here for far too long.”

Dimitri takes the note without complaint, giving Byleth the chance to shift the books in his arms. “Tomorrow I’ll hang up a second, more detailed note in the classroom. Each of you may obtain the necessary papers from me from this point onward, but the official start of your assignment is tomorrow morning.”

Byleth spares Claude a quick glance before he focuses on Dimitri once more. “Lysithea has requested my assistance with her assignment, so you may find me in the Golden Deer classroom. That will be all for now. Have a nice day.” He gives each of them a nod, sending Claude and Dimitri a look in particular, and leaves.

The memory of the stern, yet supportive talk the professor gave them when he stumbled upon their secret is still fresh in his mind after all these months.

After a day that demanded far more of Claude than he was able to give, he sought out Dimitri in his room, who welcomed him with open arms and let him spend the night. What Claude did not plan for was for them to sleep in. And when Dimitri did not show up to class, the professor naturally grew worried and came to look for him.

Despite usually being very strict about attendance, the professor did not wake them. He merely left a note, requesting their presence in his room once classes concluded for the day. Claude remembers the spark of fear rousing within him when he first read the note.

As it later turned out, his fear was wholly misplaced. Professor Byleth was altogether very encouraging of their relationship, and did not pressure them into separating with the thought of their respective positions in the future like Claude feared he might.

His suggestion was that they think about what they really wanted. Where they wanted this to go. If they were serious about what they had. And if they were ready to fight for it. “Because life isn’t fair nor easy,” he said, a fondness in his tone unfamiliar to Claude, “and I want you to be ready for the choices you will have to make.”

In addition, the professor kept their little secret to himself, and continued to do so until Claude and Dimitri felt ready to expose themselves to the public eye. It wasn’t easy, but Professor Byleth was very insistent that they couldn’t keep up their act forever.

Unless they desired to part ways and break up their romantic relationship following their graduation from Garreg Mach, there would be no other choice. Otherwise Dimitri would be expected to have a wife and an heir succeeding his coronation, and so would Claude, to a lesser extent.

Claude thought about it a lot back then. He still does, even now, when the entirety of Fódlan knows about them.

“-very nice of the professor. I’m elated he remembers me talking about it still.”

The images disappear from his mind, and he is torn back to reality by Mercedes’ voice. He lets his gaze drift over to her and Dimitri. Mercedes must have asked him about the assignments while Claude was lost in thought, since she stands directly beside him now with her eyes focused on the note in his hand.

The response she receives is a hum of agreement from Dimitri, who looks pretty pleased with his own assignment. It reminds Claude of the fact that he is meant to be working on his own essay inside his warm classroom right now, instead of standing outside in the freezing cold.

Now that his brain has caught up to reality again, so does his body. Shivers begin to wrack his body and he stuffs his hands back into the pockets of his coat once more. His quivering doesn’t go unnoticed by Dimitri.

“Claude? Are you feeling well?” Dimitri asks and gently reaches for Claude’s hand. Claude accepts the offer without an ounce of hesitation. The heat radiating of Dimitri’s hand wrapped around his own immediately soothes the numb feeling in his fingers. “You should at least wear something more suited to the weather if you insist on staying outside.”

That’s just a bit ironic, isn’t it? Dimitri is dressed in only his normal uniform with a scarf loosely thrown around his neck. The one time his gloves could have been useful he abandons them to Sothis knows where. Yet his entire body is warmer than any spot on Claude’s own. Unfair. Just unfair.

“It’s nothing. Just a little chilly today. I can handle it.”

“Claude, you’re freezing! Are you certain-“ A snowball hits Dimitri in the face, right above his nose, effectively stopping him mid-sentence. While Dimitri wipes the snow from his face with his free hand, Claude turns his attention to a very smug-looking Sylvain. “ _Who-_ **Sylvain.** ”

“Lighten up, your Highness. You’re not going to miss out on a good fight, are you?” From the corners of his eyes Claude can see the glare on Dimitri’s face, but he can easily tell that it isn’t genuine. His suspicion is confirmed when Dimitri’s lips twitch into a smile at the sight of Sylvain getting bombarded with snowballs.

Claude jumps when another snowball soars towards them. Dimitri evades it effortlessly. “Come on, boar. You scared?” The familiar smirk tugging at Felix’s lips causes Claude to believe that this snowball fight is just another training session to him. As if he isn’t currently having the time of his life. It wouldn’t surprise Claude if Felix was fooling himself into believing his own lies.

“I accept your challenge,” Dimitri says with a confidence unsuited to a playfight. There is a fire in his eyes, similar to when the professor enters him into the small tournaments which sometimes take place at the training grounds. He discovers the same look on not only Felix, but also on Sylvain and Ingrid.

Absolute lunatics.

Dimitri pockets the professor’s note and glances at Mercedes. “You know where to find me, Mercedes. I wish you the best of luck with your sweets.” Then he turns to Claude, pulls the scarf off, and before Claude can protest, slips it around Claude neck. “I’ll be back soon, ok?” Dimitri kisses his forehead.

There’s no chance for him to respond before Dimitri runs off to join his friends in what is definitely more of a competition than a game. Dimitri has tied the scarf to his throat with a loose knot that Claude could untangle without any effort. He doesn’t though. He tugs at it until it sits snug and comfortable above his coat.

“They’re all insane,” Claude mutters under his breath as he watches his boyfriend and friends. He isn’t expecting a response to his comment, and Mercedes doesn’t give him one; she only shakes her head in amusement. “Anyway, what was that about sweets?”

“Oh? I was thinking of going to the kitchen.” Mercedes takes a few steps into the direction of the Golden Deer classroom and waits for Claude to come along. It makes sense that she would urge him to get inside. “I think can make something for the other students to make them feel a little better.”

“They’ll appreciate it, I’m certain,” he says and means it. Mercedes is like a mother to everyone around her, and a clear favourite around the monastery. No one would say no to her baked goods, not even Claude. “See you around.”

“Thank you, Claude. Good luck with your essay.”

Claude shoots her a practiced wink and slips into his classroom without another comment. The moment he’s inside he is flooded by a wave of heat. It’s going to take a few hours until his body recovers, but he’s glad in any case.

His gaze scans the room. It’s relatively full. He spots each of his housemates scattered around, either working on their assignments or occupied with a personal task. Lysithea sits at the table next to the fireplace.

After a moment of hesitation he collects his notes and books from his rack on the shelves specifically made for students, and joins Lysithea. She greets him with a nod and he returns the notion, fighting to swallow the jest sitting on the tip of his tongue when she gives him a warning look.

He doesn’t take the scarf off.

Their study session session transpires relatively well. Claude warms up soon enough to feel his fingers again and begins to put down his thoughts on paper. He makes good progress on it too, far more than he expected to get done in such a short time and he’s pleasantly surprised.

Professor Byleth joins them soon enough. Lysithea and he get into a heated discussion about the topic of her essay, lasting for more than an hour. From the amount of papers on her desk Claude assumes that she has long exceeded the minimum word count. Sometimes he pities Professor Hannemann. And then he remembers that the old man is going to enjoy every second of it.

Claude skips lunch and stays to continue his task. Although it’s midday and very likely that the temperatures have risen, if just slightly, he would prefer not to expose himself to that icy hell again if he doesn’t need to. Professor Byleth’s lips are pressed into a thin line when he leaves, but he doesn’t remark Claude’s decision.

Nor does the professor return with the masses of the other students once lunch is finished. Claude doesn’t give it much thought. Dimitri is taking up all of his head space at this point. He hasn’t come by yet either, and Claude distantly wonders what he might be doing.

It doesn’t take long until he receives an answer.

In the afternoon, Byleth finally returns to the Golden Deer classroom, carrying a tray with steaming mugs. Directly beside him is Mercedes, a beautifully painted box in her hands. Claude smells the hot chocolate and biscuits before he sees them.

Following the two is an entourage of Blue Lions with even more treats. Claude quickly spots Dimitri in the masses, who is unexpectantly dressed in a new attire more fitting to the weather. Claude also takes note of the fact that Dimitri is neither carrying biscuits or a tray. Instead he carries a plate with what Claude assumes was today’s menu in one hand and a single mug in the other.

Byleth ratted him out.

The professor approaches his and Lysithea’s table, Dimitri in tow, and looks far too pleased with himself for Claude’s liking when he shoots the man a quick glare.

Putting all that aside, Claude likes Dimitri’s new clothes. Scratch that. Claude likes Dimitri’s cloak. It’s blue velvet, padded and thick. The top and bottom are furred, and Claude would bet all his money that the crest of Blaiddyd is embroidered on the back.

Claude likes the cloak. Claude likes how the cloak looks on Dima. How it wraps around his tall figure. How it makes his broad shoulders stand out. Claude likes it, but he would like it even better if he was wrapped up in it too.

“Claude, the professor told me you skipped lunch,” Dimitri says, and it sounds almost accusatory. It probably is. Claude restrains himself from uttering a sarcastic comment. “I saved you a plate, but you should know better than that. You need your strength.”

Dimitri sits down beside him and Claude gathers his papers so that he can set down the plate. “Thanks, Mitya.” The meal looks delicious, he can admit that much, and he _is_ hungry. However, he still isn’t used to all the coddling.

He isn’t used to people caring.

He pushes the thought away before he has the chance to fall deeper into the hole he dug himself. With one hand he takes the edge of the blue cloak and slides closer to Dimitri, close enough to fit snugly into his side and wrap the cloak around him. A blush spreads across his boyfriend’s cheeks when he stretches and kisses his jaw.

Time passes quickly. Dimitri talks with the professor about their mission while Claude eats, and Lysithea joins the conversation once she finishes her essay. He enjoys the hot chocolate while he works on his own assignment, and when he looks out the window and sees that the sun has set, he realises that he stayed far longer than he planned to.

Dimitri has fallen asleep on his shoulder at this point. It’s late and Claude is tired. He wishes to return to his room. Thus, he wakes Dimitri and whispers his request in his ear so that no one else might hear it. Claude thinks that Byleth might have picked up on it anyway, but the professor stays silent, only nods when they stand to leave.

Dimitri lends him his cloak on the way back to the dorms. Claude likes the weight on his shoulders, but it is too big for him and the bottom drags on the ground. It doesn’t seem to bother Dimitri, so Claude doesn’t voice his concerns.

However, when they arrive at his door and Dimitri is about to bid him farewell, he takes the scarf Dimitri lend him earlier that day and throws it around his shoulders, using to pull his boyfriend into a kiss filled with passion and into his room.

Dimitri stays for the night. He holds Claude close when tears start to silently run down his cheeks once they have settled down in his bed. He doesn’t ask questions, he only rubs circles into the small of Claude’s back. He tells Claude that he loves him. That he loves everything about him.

Claude is not used to people caring about him.

But he would like to be.

**Author's Note:**

> How is "no beta we die like Glenn" not a tag yet @Ao3


End file.
